Hi, co-author moodiful819 speaking. Here is the tenth chapter of Dance with Me. I want to tell you that I haven't abandoned Dance with Me and will continue working on it. As for why I haven't worked on it, I'm not giving excuses. Truth be told, I lost inspiration in writing this and at the same time, just too depressed to write for this. I was letting go of my first love and it's hard to write a romantic comedy when you have that much emotional baggage. But I'm back with my drama over and ready to start anew. With that said, I hope you can accept my sincerest apologies for the wait and I hope you can find it within yourselves to continue supporting this story for both me and Sakura's Tsuki.

Dance with Me

Chapter 10: Night at a Graveyard

"No! No! No!"

Kakashi paused mid-step. Placing his foot back onto the ground, he let his arms fall limp, catching the balancing stick and clutching it in his hand. The sweat pouring down his face and back, he turned to the vicious glare of his teacher.

"What did I do wrong?" It was said in a calm, even tone and he was impressed that he had kept the frustration out of his tone. His skin felt hot, but it might have been because of how hard he'd been working. He had been practicing the slow waltz he'd learned at the beginning of his classes. Sakura had told him since he'd learn the basics, now all he had to do was perfect it. The stick balanced on his arms was to help with his posture and simulate a partner's restrictions to his movement while he practiced in front of the mirror. Sakura was to watch from the sides and give him pointers, but recently, it seemed all she was doing was yelling at him.

"Your back…it's…"

"Straight. The only way it could be straighter is if someone ran a metal rod through it. The spacing between my footing is the same as the first ten times you've corrected it and my arms are so well in position that they might freeze this way. I don't see any part of my posture or dancing that you haven't critiqued into your satisfaction, so what is wrong with me now?"

This time, there was an edge to his voice. She'd been nit-picking him and while he was all for positive criticism to help better the end result (he did it on a daily basis after all), she was pushing him, critiquing him for things that weren't there and it was grating on him. But that wasn't the only reason he was upset.

Besides the fact that she was pushing him, she looked horrible. She could try to hide it under all the make-up in the world, but even he could see she hadn't slept in weeks, and it worried him. Something must have happened to her and he assumed that was what caused the change in her behavior recently, but as to what it was, he could only guess. He knew already it wasn't his place to ask.

Sakura stammered, shocked by the implication. "I…you…Hatake-san, I—"

She was cut off as she was suddenly presented with the wooden practice pole.

"I will be leaving early, Haruno-san. It's obvious to me that your mind is elsewhere and the dance room is not the place for such behavior. I suggest you clear up whatever is on your mind soon because this isn't fair to me as your student." Disappearing into the locker room, he grabbed his spare belongings, his bag and a coat. "You may call me to resume lessons once you feel better."

And with that, he left the studio. Sakura stared after him stunned, unsure of what to say or how to react. She knew she should be indignant—where did he get off telling her what to do?—but a faint ache in her chest that she wanted to ignore knew that what he had said had hit the mark. She was taking her problems out on him and it was unfair of her. However, her mind was elsewhere.

Somewhere in the distance, the faint rumbling of thunder echoed over the city. Though it'd been in the news for weeks, Sakura turned and looked at the dark, menacing sky with a detached gaze.

With mild surprise, she said, "Looks like it's going to rain."

Sakura stared down at the grey gravestone by her feet. The name in the stone was carved with a neat, functional lettering and the stone itself was neither large nor small, neither too expensive-looking nor too cheap. And despite its innocuous appearance, this was the cause of her problems.

It all started two weeks ago when she woke up one morning and spotted the calendar. She didn't know why she did it since she usually knew her weekly schedule like the back of her hand, but she did and she spotted what month it was and what day it was going to be. The anniversary of Sasuke's death would be coming up and suddenly, Sakura felt the world being pulled from under her.

That day, Sakura sat on her kitchen floor for two hours staring blankly at the wall as if she'd been swallowed up and spat back out by a dark chasm. Luckily, she only had afternoon classes that day, but when she snapped back into reality, she felt odd. Though she knew it was coming up, she hadn't thought it would come so soon and she'd be lying if she didn't say that she still hadn't fully accepted Sasuke's death. She could accept he was dead. Telling herself that the man she thought she was going to spend the rest of her days with was gone and buried under six feet of dirt was something else entirely.

Maybe it was the stress of the anniversary of his death approaching, or the fact that she was now teaching a man that reminded her of her late fiancé, but she had become increasingly irritable. She had lost her appetite and hadn't slept well in days. The memories of that earthquake still haunted her and they came back to her in her dreams. Every night, she would see Sasuke dying for her and every night, she would wake up in the middle of the night sweaty and gasping for breath in the middle of an apartment that was too cold and lonely for her to bear.

Idly, she flexed her wrist, staring at the movement. It was hard to believe that it had once been broken, but she could still feel the phantom grip of the cast on her limbs, even in this weather.

The rain poured on her steadily. Her coat, along with the rest of her clothing, was drenched and the haphazard bun she had thrown her hair in was beginning to melt from the weight of the water. Her hair clung to her skin, sticking to her face and the back of her neck. Around her, the rain fell with a scattered 'tak-tak-tak'; the face of her watch was completely coated in water, and she was as pale as ghost. Though it was cold, she had stopped shivering minutes—hours ago and now only felt a numbness in her skin.

The sound of gravel being crunched into the ground alerted Sakura to a new presence and slowly she lifted her head to the sight of approaching headlights.

Kakashi looked up through the swinging window wipers as he drove through the cemetery. Tonight, he had forgone the limousine (it was seeming a bit much now, even if it was a company perk) and taken his own car after leaving the studio. After his somewhat one-sided argument, he was glad he did and tried to drive around to clear his thoughts. When that didn't work, he decided to stop by a café. He wasn't hungry, but he figured sticking some food into his mouth might calm him down a little. Unfortunately, he didn't have any appetite and only managed to drink a cup of coffee, which helped, if only a little.

As for why he took his own car today, he had an errand to do. He was going to visit someone, someone he hadn't visited in years. He'd put it off, but when he woke up this morning and saw the calendar, he realized he hadn't visited Obito's grave and decided that today would be the day.

Though the way he described his visit made Obito seem like an unimportant person, it was far from that. Uchiha Obito was one of the most important people in his life.

They met at a photo shoot. He was still a model at the time while Obito was the photographer at the shoot. At that point in his life, he'd been questioning what he wanted from his life. Modeling was relatively easy and the pay was good, but it wasn't like he loved being in the camera. In fact, he hated it. But what else could he do? He didn't know, or rather, he didn't care until he met Obito.

His first impression of Obito was that he was an idiot. Sloppily dressed with a shit-eating grin on his face, everything in his being screamed in rejection of this photographer. 'What did he know about photography?' Kakashi thought to himself.

They fought all day during that shoot, but when it came down to the editing, Kakashi was stunned by the end product. Obito had a natural eye for these things, proved even further when he called Kakashi out for what he was: a selfish, spoiled kid with no direction and no one to vent his frustration on. He made no attempts to deny it, too stunned by the truth of Obito's words and after that, they became friends. Obito had even gotten him into photography and Icha Icha, and would later help him get a job for the magazine. He had died six years ago in a car accident with a drunk driver. At the funeral, he met Jiraiya who told him Obito had shown him Kakashi's photography and asked if he could spare his friend a job. After a few trial issues, he did get a job: Obito's.

Though he was never that sentimental, he kept a few things of Obito's. His camera, a few lenses; even the couch in his office was Obito's. He'd visit his grave in his family's cemetery plot (despite his goofy nature, he was a part of the notoriously stoic and powerful Uchiha family) on the anniversary of his death. He stopped three years ago when he began questioning his happiness. He didn't want Obito to see him like this when he should be grateful for what Obito gave him, but now, he was a bit happier with his life and ready to face Obito and beg forgiveness to his ghost because right now, he could use his friend's help.

Konoha's cemetery was much like a typical Hollywood cemetery. It was situated on a high hill with a winding road running up and through it; tonight's storm adding to the spooky atmosphere.

Driving up the last winding curve to the Uchiha plot, he spotted a dark shadow before a grave. His heart thumped in his chest, his mind already calculating anti-zombie defense plans when his headlights caught the figure who had turned to face him. Without concern for his clothing, he opened the car door and stepped out into the rain, climbing up the small muddy incline to where she stood.

"Sakura, what are you doing here? It's already ten at night and you're soaked to the bone!" he exclaimed scanning over her soaked petite figure.

She blinked up at him as if in a dream. "Kakashi?"

He gave an unintelligible grunt. "Yes, it's me." Suddenly, his voice became concerned. "Sakura, how long have you been here? Never mind, let's get you out of the rain."

He watched her nod and he waited patiently from where he stood for her to move. She took a step forward, but stumbled, but Kakashi caught her, giving a small 'Oof!' as she collided with his chest.

"Are you alright?" She was freezing to the touch.

Sakura nodded against his chest to say she was and he felt her tiny fists on him as she braced herself and tried to push off of him, only to find she couldn't. "I seem to have trouble getting back up," she murmured, her eyes still cloudy.

"You're burning up," he whispered back, her forehead a hot weight on his chest. Slipping his hand over her head to check again, it only reaffirmed the fact. "You have a fever."

"But I feel fine…" she said hazily, her words slurring slightly together. Kakashi shook his head.

"We got to get you warmed up and out of those wet clothes."

Bracing her weight against his body, he turned her to the car. Pausing to look behind him, he watched her footprints caught by the headlights fill with water and glanced up at the tombstone he found her in front of.

'Uchiha Sasuke, huh?'

And storing the name in the back of his mind, he placed her in the car and drove off.

Kakashi sighed to himself in dismay as he scratched his head in the kitchen. He was in Sakura's apartment, having driven her here from the cemetery. He'd grabbed her key from the pocket where she told him she kept it and balancing her in his arms, he opened the door. Placing her in the bedroom, he helped her in change into some dry clothes and placed a wet towel on her forehead before going to the kitchen to make her something to eat. Judging by how deeply sunk her footprints were and how soaked her clothes were, she'd been there for hours and he guessed she hadn't eaten.

Searching the kitchen, Kakashi scratched the back of his head in puzzlement. Despite subsisting mainly on takeout, he knew how to cook, but he didn't really know how to make anything for a sick person since he rarely got sick. Opening and shutting cabinets, he searched the shelves. He'd heard chicken soup and rice gruel was good for sick people, but it seemed she didn't have any of that on hand. There was instant ramen, but he knew it wasn't that great for fevers.

Settling to heat up some miso soup (it was better than nothing), he placed it on a tray with a glass of water and the Tylenol he'd gotten from the bathroom earlier, and carried it to her room where he found her lying in bed just as he left her. Her eyes, previously closed, fluttered open.

"I raided your kitchen since I figured you probably didn't eat. I'll pay you back for it later. It's miso soup," he explained lamely. Sakura merely stared back and he squirmed a bit under her gaze before approaching her bed and setting the tray on the nightstand. "I know it isn't sick-people food, but I don't know how to make rice gruel. If I find a spare cookbook around, I could make it for you," he offered while on the inside, Kakashi wondered if he'd always been this awkward with women.

Pulling up a chair to her bedside, he picked up the water basin and changed the towel on her forehead and removed the thermometer from her mouth with a sigh. "102.4. Sakura, how'd you let it get this bad? You knew it was going to rain. Why didn't you at least bring an umbrella? And what were you thinking going out alone in the rain so late at night? Was this 'Uchiha Sasuke' so important that'd you'd disregard your health over him? Why didn't you visit another time?"

"I could…ask the same for you," she whispered hoarsely before her hand grasped wildly for the glass of water. He handed it to her and she nodded her thanks as she emptied half the glass.

"It's different," he answered quickly, placing the basin back on the ground.

Sakura, despite her high fever, still had enough state of mind to glare at him. "How is it different? I was visiting a grave like I assume you were. Normal people don't go into graveyards for fun."

'They also don't stand in the rain for hours at night.' Kakashi sighed and shook his head. "Do you know what could've happened to you if someone else found you?"

"I would've been fine," she argued.

"Sakura, you collapsed on me when you tried to walk. You have a high fever and you look like you haven't eaten or slept in days. You're in no condition to say you would've been fine."

Too weak to cross her arms over her chest, she turned her head away stubbornly. Kakashi sighed and ran a hand through his hair tiredly. This wasn't the way he wanted things to go.

"I didn't come here to pick a fight. I'm just worried. You haven't been yourself and you know I'm right. Why are you doing this to yourself?" He stared at her imploringly, but when met with her blank stare, he threw his hands up in defeat. "You know what, you don't have to answer that."

Pushing the chair back, he stood up. "I'm going to crash on your couch. I'll check on you every now and again to see if your fever is going down."

When he was met with silence, he sighed quietly to himself and began walking towards the door. Unfortunately for him, he forgot the fact the basin was still on the floor and walked right into it.

"Shit!" he whispered fiercely, retrieving his foot from the water. Bracing himself against the vanity by the door, he stripped off his wet sock and rolled up the wet pants leg as he muttered curses under his breath. So much for leaving quietly.

Going back to the bed, he picked up the basin and went to the bathroom, changing the water and wringing out his wet sock. Placing the basin on the forgotten chair, he glimpsed out of the corner of his eye to see what her reaction was. She merely stared blankly at the ceiling. He sighed.

"If you need anything, just call out," he told her quietly and began heading towards the door once more.

"Sasuke was my fiancé." Kakashi turned around in shock because Sakura hadn't spoken at all since she turned away from him. He could barely believe she was talking to him. She hadn't even moved a muscle. She merely lay in bed and stared at the ceiling as she spoke. If anything, it seemed more like she was speaking at him. "He died two years ago in an earthquake saving me. Remember that earthquake in Tokyo from two years ago?"

"Yeah. I remember."

"Our apartment had collapsed in the earthquake and I was caught inside. He went back for me and in doing so, he died. I escaped by both my arms and legs broken. I thought I'd never dance again.

"Did you know? Earlier than night, we were at a dance competition. We didn't win—he accidentally stepped on my dress and we both fell—but he was such a good dancer. He was my dance partner since I started dancing at age seven. God, we hated each other back then, but even then he was such a good dancer. You can imagine how that pissed me off. He was the annoying, stuck up seven-yr-old that insulted every move I made, but he danced like an angel. Even when he got older, his dancing captivated me. I wish you could've seen him dance. He was so beautiful when he danced," she whispered with reverence in her voice. Kakashi could tell she loved him very much. Maybe this was why she reacted the way she did when he kissed her. She still hadn't let him go.

A slight sniffling sound roused his attention and he walked over to the bed. Placing the basin on the floor, he brought the chair to her side and sat down. Reaching out, he rubbed comforting circles in her hand. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

She sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes with the heel of her free hand. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I must seem so weird ranting about my dead fiancé and you probably think I'm some weird freak. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" she berated herself. Kakashi grabbed her hands and held them in a steadying grip.

"It's not stupid, and you're not a freak, Sakura. You loved him. It's natural you'd still miss him. And though I don't know why you told me, I'm glad you did. So it's alright, Sakura. Don't worry about it," he gently reassured. At the soft smile on his lips, she hesitated but nodded slowly. He was right.

Smiling to himself, he patted her hand. "Now drink your soup and I'll see about trying to find a recipe for gruel. I apologize in advance if I ruin any of your pans," he joked.

Sakura shook her head. "It's alright, and there are some cookbooks in the living room," she told him. Nodding in thanks, he disappeared from the room leaving Sakura alone. Pushing herself into a sitting position in her bed, she plucked the slipping towel off her head and stared at the vanity across her bed. Behind a row of small bottles, her reflection was caught in the mirror. Briefly, her eyes skirted from her pale, flushed reflection to the photo on the vanity. It was of the two of them, Sasuke in a black suit and Sakura in a white dress. If she remembered correctly, Naruto had taken it on the night Sasuke proposed to her; it was also one of the last pictures taken of Sasuke when he was alive.

A smile hovered over her lips like a ghost as she stared at the photo. Sasuke was actually smiling in it—well, a half-smile—which was rare because he hated photos and he hated smiling in them. Naruto had always commented it was like Sasuke lived off of lemons to keep that sour look on his face; Sakura chuckled quietly at the memory until she was staring into her hands, too painful to look at the photo anymore.

She stared at her hands, her mind vacant until a faint tingling occurred in her fingertips, Kakashi's touch calling out from the back of her mind. Remembering the bowl of soup still on the nightstand, she picked it up. It was now only slightly warm, she realized. Remembering his orders to drink it, she brought to her lips, wincing uneasily when a clatter of pans echoed back to her from the kitchen before letting the liquid slip past her lips.

Staring into the small plastic bowl, she watched the pieces of tofu and green onion bob and float on the surface as the miso swirled in a tan cloud. Her lips still hovering over the liquid, she smiled softly into her bowl.

'It's good.'

There you have it guys, the new chapter is up, sorry to have to make you guys wait for it, I promise, I'm going to finish the rest of my other stories^^ and please dont forgot to watch my onegai sakura radioplay on youtube^^

bye^^